the key to a healthy farmer

I’m not sure, but I think today might have been my last official day farming… for Eeyore anyway.

It came on kind of like a surprise attack – the end of harvest, that is. I thought I’d be more than ready to move on to less farmer-ish things, but (as it turns out) it’s a good thing my tractor-ing abilities have attracted some attention. Another farmer ’round here said he might need some help. I guess that makes me an independent farming contractor, doesn’t it? Wonder if that’ll fit on my resume…

I will say it might be hard to transition to a new boss. I’m kind of partial to the one I have. That brings me to the subject of today’s post. It’s been awhile since I shared some wisdom from the field (and by that I mean literally from the cornfield in Iowa, if you haven’t been following my posts), but don’t think I’ve been twiddling my farmer thumbs. Nope, when I’m not writing about farming, I’m probably studying it (in the classroom-without-walls sort of way).

Lately, I’ve realized something. And it is REAL important if you want your farming operation to run smoothly. I mean REAL important in the same way that I need coffee in the morning (just ask Eeyore – it’s an absolute must).

Here it is – the key to a healthy farmer. Are you ready?

Well, first let’s assume the farmer has his machinery and fields and bins and whatnot in order. Let’s assume he’s a good farmer (because Eeyore is, of course). I didn’t say I was going to share the key to a good farmer (there are plenty of more qualified people who could tell you that). I said I’m going to tell you the key to a healthy farmer. I also don’t mean a healthy diet – farmers, I’ve learned, have coolers packed with all sorts of good things to nibble on during the day.

(Pardon me while I make my position as field hand a bit more irreplaceable)

From my observation, the farmer can grow quite somber at times. His furrowed brows can get accustomed to a serious study of things and his jaw can set in a “and that’s settled” sort of way. Not that a somber countenance is bad, but sometimes (a lot of times) it is healthy to have something to chuckle about (or someone).

Let me give you a scenario. I’ve got to preface it by saying I prefer the 3 person rhythm. I know, I might sound like a fieldhand snob, but I really like how the harvest rolled in when it was Partner, Eeyore and I making decisions and jokes and (every once in awhile) mistakes. I liked how the radio would crackle with familiar voices and that I could rock out to music in the cab when no one was looking. I love visitors, too, because I can draw on the weeks of knowledge I’ve tried to store in my brain and show off my mad tractor skills. I especially like kid visitors because I like being a kid myself, which actually brings me around to my scenario.

It was a day in the field that turned quite confusing for me. There was a lot of mumbling and grumbling and a somber shadow that hung unfortunately lower than the bright sunshine that I was trying to bask in from my front row seat in the cab. For the life of me, I could not figure out what everyone was so sad about. No one felt like mumbling and grumbling to me, so I had to take my best guess at where I should go and what I should do. Thankfully, I had a very lively tractor companion and we laughed. Oh! Did we laugh! I tried out a few funny accents while going on about his stinky feet and if he wasn’t belted in, he would’ve been rolling on the ground. We hopped out of the tractor and saw all the somber faces and I still didn’t understand one bit of it. I’m sure they were discussing something really serious and important.

The next morning, when Partner, Eeyore and I got our rhythm back, I realized I was tense … and quiet. Eeyore will forever blame it on a caffeine deficiency, but I think I just needed some time to readjust to the old rhythm. Eeyore kept coming over the radio, asking questions like, “How you doing over there, Caroline?” and “Are you awake?” and “None o’ them yawns, now.”

That’s when it all started to make sense (maybe that was after a Diet Coke was delivered). All those silly questions I ask and sorry attempts at humor and mistakes a seasoned professional would never make … those don’t fit inside the furrowed brow and set jaw countenance. And that is refreshing.

Sometimes farmers don’t want to talk about farming at all… and sometimes they want to talk about farming with someone who thinks every piece of information is new and interesting – like the first time you were introduced to silly putty or hot chocolate or the game of football. The first questions are always silly, and even the farmer can’t keep a straight face while explaining.

The farmer needs UNfarmerly things to talk about and laugh about and comment on. He needs someone that will take his mind off the weather, the price of corn, and decisions about upgrading his operation. Or, maybe, the farmer needs someone who will listen to all those things, try to say something smart, and then talk about something completely unrelated.

Because, at the end of the day, farming isn’t living… and we need people to remind us just what that is.

(do you think adding “comic relief” to my job description will get me a raise? Eeyore will see right through this as an attempt to flex my business prowess and make myself more valuable 🙂